Give Me the Moon
by mistamie
Summary: "How can I make you love me?" "Give me the moon, that's how." Twins at the same college, dating their roommates, when they begin to find they've fallen for each other's boyfriend.  Drama ensues. Prucan USUK Swearing, rating subject to change.
1. Roomies!

**New Story. USUK PRUCAN LOTS OF DRAMA ON THE WAY THERE HOLD ON TO YOUR KNICKERS.**

_**this kind of slanty writing for twin speak later on**_

**I sound very unprofessional. This is Beta written with SocklessxinxSeattle.**

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><p>Matthew stomped up the carpeted steps of his father's house, his hands balled into fists, his face of barely concealed annoyance. They were going to be late for their orientation for college unless his lazy ass twin hurried up. The door to Alfred's bedroom was closed, but Matthew paid no head, pushing the wood out of his way. His eyes scanned the mess of boxes and strewn belongings that held many memories over the years, and he saw his twin wasn't in the room.<p>

Turning to head down the hall, he noticed the light on in the bathroom, the door mostly closed, a large gap revealing the fact that his brother was at the sink…in just his boxers.

Alfred was staring at the mirror, his hands on either side of his lean, tan face. "Ah, I'm so beautiful, it's a curse. How can you live with yourself, Alfred Jones, you sexy man beast, you…"

Mattie let the door hit the wall with a thunk, clearing his throat harshly, causing Alfred to start and spin around, his face beet red. Matthew glared at his twin, whose hair was still in need of a brush, then at his obvious state of undress. "Five goddamn minutes. Then I'm driving off with your stupid, goddamn truck, and not goddamn coming back."

That was how they started their first day of their college careers.

Alfred hurriedly locked the doors to their father's mansion, a big box house he'd only bought because of their stepmother/his trophy wife, who the twins called "Trophy Bitch", and the two of them were currently on a cruise. The twins' real mother lived 25 miles away and over the Canadian border in Quebec. Both twins could speak fluent French, although Alfred's was very accented, and Matthew had stayed up in Montreal for about a year and a half after the divorce before the parents were back on speaking terms.

He hopped up into the driver's seat quickly of his big Dodge pickup truck, not wanting Matthew to drive his baby, especially for the long road trip. Matthew sat in the passenger seat next to him, pushing back bags of stuff into the king cab of the truck, their packing, haphazard in Alfred's case, filled up the bed of the truck and the back seats, leaving only places for the two to sit. Even though, supposedly, they were sharing a dorm room, seeing as Alfred had called in to request it last week, they still had mountains of crap, their father threatening to throw out whatever was left in their rooms so he could knock down the wall between the bedrooms, and build an in-home movie theater in their place. That had gone over just as well as Trophy Bitch's terrible cooking. But their father had final say.

George Jones was a charmer. He impressed businessmen with one well-placed joke, wooed women with one smile. But at home, he was a bastard on steroids. He had been furious at finding out that one of his sons was gay, speeding up the decline of his marriage (although cheating on his wife didn't help), and constantly had made remarks and lashed out at his slightly younger son, ignoring him for his twin. Alfred had become the center of his attention, being sent to football camps all summer, playing on the school team as quarterback in the fall, before baseball in the spring. Alfred's build and masculinity had been played up, his strength, his stubbornness. Matthew had constantly been told that he should be more like his brother. That was why, when they got their licenses, Alfred had gotten a big, blue and red striped pickup truck, and Matthew a red Prius.

So, at the time of the divorce, their mother took Matthew home to the French Canadian side of the family, changing his last name to "Williams", her maiden name, and restricted all contact Matthew had with his father. George, on the other hand, cracked down on Alfred, now the only one in the house besides the occasional mistress, smothering him with strict rules and attitudes, during a time when Alfred had become confused on his sexuality, realizing he didn't care what a person's gender was when it came to a relationship. His father had been furious, and after a brief visitation in which he greeted his mother with a black eye and a split lip, Alfred too went to live with the Canadian side.

George, now publically embarrassed and seen as intolerant, calmed down, married Momma Trophy, and had "accepted" his boys. Now, both eighteen, the twins had been rotating years and holidays between the two parents, and while one was obviously more immersed in French culture than the other, the twins became as close as they ever had been.

Alfred munched on a fast food breakfast sandwich as he drove down the interstate. With a yawn, he reached over, and after adjusting the radio to a rap station, and knocked Matthew's feet off the dashboard.

"_Hoser, what was that for_?" Mattie said in their mixed language twin speak, and kicked his socked feet back up from where they'd been knocked from, wiggling his toes and slouching lower in his sweatshirt, grumpily mumbling about pancakes.

"_No feet on my dashboard_, Mattie." The brothers exchanged a glare, before Matthew chuckled.

"_I can put them wherever I want_." Matthew stretched his legs in defiance.

"_I don't do this to you in the Prius. That thing is a damned lunchbox, anyway_."

"_Hey, we both know this truck symbolizes the manhood papa thought you had."_

"_Hey, I've had plenty of girlfriends. And the first person I slept with was Sara, two years ago, in Montreal, and she was 100% woman! We can't say the same for you, Mr. I was a fag from seventh grade!"_

Matthew sent an exasperated look towards his brother. "_So what if the first person I slept with wasn't a woman? The last person you did certainly wasn't one."_

The hands holding onto the steering wheel became white at the knuckles, the driver working very hard to just look straight ahead. "_We've already had the Jeff discussion. I had a fake ID, got drunk, had sex with him, and then, in the morning, I left. He was very nice after I assured him that I was, in fact, 18. I don't see why we must talk about him anymore."_

The Canadian just laughed, and settled down for a nap, falling asleep to rap music and Alfred's bilingual swearing at other drivers.

He snapped awake at the sudden breaking, then gearshift, Alfred's hand on the radio dial, slamming it off, before opening the door. Sitting up and looking around him, Matthew realized that they had arrived on campus, all the way down in Pennsylvania, the buildings all around him large, some with large windows and new age appearances, others old brick. In the rearview mirror he could see large old houses with Greek letters. Fraternities, most likely.

He sat up, yawning, and stumbled out after his twin, who was stretching, before putting a hand on the back of his neck and craning his head up to the sun.

"_Let's go to admin office, see where our dorm is so we can move in today. I wanna explore campus tomorrow, not unpack." _Alfred grabbed a set of papers and walked onward across the grass of the campus, not stopping to hear his brother's answer, or make sure he was following. Matthew sighed, and jogged after him.

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><p>"<strong>What do you mean we're not in the same dorm? I called to request that we be in the same dorm, the same dorm room!"<strong>

The woman didn't even flinch at the young man before her, her old, beady eyes staring back coldly from her horn-rimmed glasses. "As I said before, first year students cannot request their room partners, and are put with roommates of like interests. Mr. Williams has been put with a fellow literature student for various reasons by the administrations office. Likewise for Mr. Jones for science and engineering."

"But the girl on the phone, she told me it would be taken care of!"

"Our intern, Karen, has been known to be very flighty of mind, and probably misunderstood whatever it was you said. She also is very prone to flirting, and will answer with whatever the caller wants to hear…" There was a suspicious edge to the old woman's voice, and Alfred's face took on a mild pinkish hue.

"C'mon Mattie, let's figure this out on our own…" He grabbed his twin's hand and pulled back down the hall. "Stupid ditzy girl, getting me sidetracked with that cute little laugh…"

"_So you did flirt with her."_

"_Shut. Up." _

They drove around the campus to the section where their dorms were located, Matthew's at the bottom of the hill, Alfred's at the top, causing him to groan.

"_Now I have to haul the fridge all the way up the hill…"_

"_Al, who says you are getting the fridge?"_

"_Hey, I bought it!"_

"_With our shared, prepaid credit card that dad covers."_

"_Go and buy your own, then!"_

"_**You still have the card!"**_

Once they had separated their belongings, they started to heave Alfred's stuff up the hill because he'd won a game of rock, paper, and scissors. Matthew had a feeling he _wasn't_ going to get help with his stuff.

They found the room, which was on the third floor of the multi-floor dorm, and found the door wide open, the roommate who was to share it already…settled.

"_Is that a gun on the bed?" _Matthew looked around the room, seeing one half covered in wrappers, papers, bed covers, clothes, and what looked to be a black pistol on a pillow next to some German porn magazines.

"_No, Mattie, it couldn't be! They don't allow guns on campus. The only way someone could have snuck one in was if they brought individual gun pieces in, then rebuilt it by hand. And who would do such a stupid thing?"_

"You guys speak English? And what are you fuckers doing in my room?" The twins spun around, spying a man in the doorway.

He was pale, with a shock of white hair and red eyes. He had a smirk on his face, and he eyed the boxes they were carrying, reading the labels reading "XBOX 360 and PS3" and "PLAYBOY".

"Ooh, my new roomy!" The man walked over to Mattie, slinging an arm over the man's shoulder. "So, roomy, wanna have some of ol' Gil here?" He stuck a thumb to his chest, his face smug.

Mattie pushed him away, his face murderous. "One, I am **not** your roommate, my twin is, and two, I will never want any part of 'ol' Gil'. Thirdly, Alfred, you can haul the rest of your shit up here, I'm going to go set up mine."

"But Mattie…the fridge…"

"Someone's a real pussy…"

"You get _your_ fridge up here by _yourself_. And, 'ol' Gil', I wouldn't say it was a pleasure to meet you. Because it wasn't." Matthew set the box of playboys down on the empty cot, and turned and left, his fists clenched.

"Ugh, now I have to haul everything up the hill…way to make Mattie the aggressive side of passive-aggressive. There's no way he'll help me now that you've called him a pussy. Hates the name, all the football team (besides myself) called him that in senior year while he was dating that one Dutch guy. That was a good year, although the basement always smelled like weed…" Alfred set down his box. "I'm Al, by the way. Alfred F. Jones, freshman, science major." He stuck out his hand.

The albino smirked, and stuck out his own hand. "Gilbert Fucking Awesome Beilschmidt. So, are there really playboys in that box?"

"Yeah, dude. But only if you help me with the goddamned fridge."

"Deal."

"And what's with the gun?"

"Oh, gun engineering and prototyping."

"I didn't know they had a class here like that."

"They don't."

* * *

><p>Matthew stormed up the stairs of his dorm, lugging a box of maple syrup. "Stupid Alfred's roommate, stupid hoser…"<p>

The door to his room was locked as it should have been, unlike Alfred's, and he pulled his key out from his lanyard, and unlocked it, finding his roommate had also been there, but the room being in pristine condition, and if he wasn't mistaken, cleaned before hand. Oh lord, the man was gay as well. In fact, he was sitting on the bed reading Charles Dickens, his huge eyebrows turned down in concentration. Matthew said nothing and stood in the doorway, waiting to be noticed, not wanting to intrude.

The man finally looked up. "Oh, Hello there, chap. You must be…er…Matthew…Williams, yes? Do you need any help?"

Well, wasn't this nice. It seems they had paired up the students by interests and personality.

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><p><strong>Fun Fact: In South Korea they believe in "Fan Death" that if you leave an electric fan on all night in a closed room, the person will die in there. In that case, I would be dead many times over. <strong>


	2. Family

**Okay, sorry this took this long, but I started reading some very odd (BUT GOOD) Harry Potter fics...all yaoi fics...**

**Anyways, thanks to SocklessxinxSeattle for reading this over and for... recommending the fics...**

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><p>Matthew set down the last, neatly packaged box on his bed, letting out a groan, before leaning backwards, letting his back crack a few times, and then sighing tiredly. He smiled, looking around at all his boxes, neatly set down and in order, thanks to his new roommate, Arthur. The British accent and manners weren't something he was expecting out of a roommate, but it was much better than a <em>German<em> one. Good lord, he was going to have to deal with that asshole the _entire year…_

"Thank you so much, Arthur, I really appreciate it! If...y-you need anything, I'd be glad to help," Matthew said, finally turning to where the British literature student was settling back down with his book, his eyebrows once again furrowing.

Arthur looked up at the shy stuttering, and gave a faint blush, embarrassed by the thanks. "It was nothing," the Englishman huffed, "I simply remember how I had to lug everything up to my dorm all by myself my first year. What a bloody pain."

Mattie pushed some boxes aside to sit down on his bare mattress, holding off unpacking for a moment to actually have conversation with someone who wasn't family. He ran a hand back to tuck some stray hairs behind his ear. "You aren't a freshman? I thought upperclassmen were able to pick their roommates."

Arthur gave a chuckle. "Well, you see, there wasn't anyone who I would even remotely wish to share a room with that attends school here. My roommate last year was almost the bloody death of me. And I swear," Arthur's face darkened "if he comes around here, he won't have his skin when he leaves." The two were silent for an uncomfortable amount of time. "So, I decided that I would simply take my chances with a freshman. I'm only a sophomore, so I didn't think that we'd be so emotionally different." And with the frank statement, the conversation was over, and the man was once again reading his book.

Matthew let out a small laugh. "Well, maybe it was better for my sake that I didn't get a room with my brother. I think rooming with you will be a lot easier." And with that, he gave a small, shy smile to the Brit before getting up. His stomach gave a faint rumbling, and he checked his watch. Two, it was past lunch. "I'm going to go grab the credit card from my brother and grab some food. Would you like anything while I'm out?" Might as well work on becoming friends.

"No, I'm perfectly fine at the moment, thank you."

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><p>Alfred shoved the last pieces of clothing into the "dresser" that was built into the closet on his side of the room before sitting down on a slightly ratty beanbag chair in front of the small TV that Gilbert had positioned on top of the mini-fridge the two of them had lugged up the hill, grabbing a controller from the cardboard box laying next to him. Gilbert put down a playboy and did the same.<p>

"Call of Duty?" Alfred started up his X-box and logged in, Mattie, in defiance, having set himself as the default player.

"Which one?" Gilbert opened a pack of beef jerky lying on the floor.

"I have them all."

"So. Fucking. Awesome. Left 4 Dead? Halo Reach?"

"Fuck yes, Gil."

"This year is gonna rock!"

They started out co-oping on missions, both being about equal ability, although Alfred was a little more familiar with the settings and controls. Soon, though, it became more between the two of them than the bad guys, and they played against each other.

"You fucking Kraut! How the hell did you knife me from behind? Were you watching my screen?"

"I'm just a pale demon in the shadows, waiting to knife you from behind, then do horrible things to your dead, animated body…" Gilbert smiled at the television, and Alfred shivered. He watched as his character came back to life, and then headed out once again, this time, out for blood, not just goofing around.

He brought out his sniper rifle, and perched on a tier of the boat map they were on, in a position where he was practically unnoticeable, and waited for Gilbert's Spetsnaz character to appear (Alfred wouldn't give up the chance to be the US Marines character, and Gilbert would only ever be a Russian for a very long time). Alfred admitted, yes, sniper rifles weren't his best, but he'd beat this game three times over, so he was pretty decent. Mattie, on the other hand, was a freak of nature with the sniper rifle. Alfred refused to play Vs. with Matthew unless he chose a different gun, and that was when the twins realized Mattie was shit with the rest of them. Needless to say, Alfred played on Xbox live much more often than with his brother.

He saw a little red cap in the simulated night of the game, and took aim, target fixed on the head in view, the soon to be victim still unaware, when there was an abrupt pounding on the door, startling him to the point of pulling the trigger, missing a little, and hitting Gilbert's character in some part of his chest, causing the Spetsnaz to lay on the ground with a fatal wound, but still armed with a pistol, who in a defiant moment, shot Alfred's Marine through the heart. Both dead, and Alfred now pissed.

"Alfred, I need the credit card."

"Mattie, look what you did!" Alfred was helplessly pointing at the screen, the replay of the deaths being televised. Gilbert was mumbling about being "Bitchin' Cool!" and he pulled out his own pistol from under his bed, the same model as the one he used in the game, and he stroked the barrel.

Matthew just eyed the two of them, Alfred with mock pity, Gilbert with slight hate, and cautious towards the gun.

"I see nothing wrong with what I did. I was out there calling you for five minutes, but you weren't answering your phone, so I had to come inside anyways, even though _he's_ in here." Mattie gave a snobbish huff towards Gilbert, whose eyes flashed annoyance.

"I'm sorry, pussy, but you get to see my fucking awesome face whether you like it or not. And you will be for all year long." Gilbert stuck his tongue out, and made a rude gesture to Matthew, who glared back daggers. Alfred was oblivious to the entire exchange; too busy pawing through his belongings for his wallet, before producing the card in question.

He crossed the line of fire that the eyes of the two were creating, their shared annoyance and general bad feelings being almost as potent as lasers. But Alfred was immune to Matthew's glare, and not even recognizing it, handed him the card, ignoring the small burning sensation in his shoulder where Gilbert's eyes were still glaring, Gilbert himself starting to polish his gun.

"I really have no idea why Dad won't just have them issue two damn cards, but until I find the nearest ATM, I can't get any cash so I need it back eventually. I'll call you if I start running low on funds." Alfred smiled at his simmering brother, watching as he got a quiet thanks and his brother exited the room.

When the two were alone once more, Alfred shrugged. "Wonder what was up with him. I wouldn't call him a pussy anymore, though." He turned back to Gilbert, who now was shrugging as well, his annoyance hidden in all but his eyes.

"Y'know, people sometimes just get upset over the littlest things, but I haven't done anything to warrant that kind of reaction. Are you sure your brother isn't on his man period? It seemed to me it was his time of the month." Alfred guffawed, before sitting back down in the beanbag.

"Yeah, maybe I should go out and get him a bag of chocolate to make him feel better."

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><p>Matthew found a grocery store within walking distance with help of a kind citizen. He couldn't tell, though, if the person was a man or woman, the Chinese accent not helping in identifying, but the flat-chest suggested male.<p>

He walked up and down the isles, picking out some snacks, before heading over to a maple syrup display. He'd decided to do full out shopping, not just buying lunch, and maybe scout out the mini-fridges.

His handcart filled with a bottle of mountain dew, a few maple syrup bottles (you never could have too much, although he had an entire box of it back at the dorm. That would get him through two weeks, maybe…), pancake mix to use in his portable griddle, paper plates, Alfred's favorite brand of Pop tarts and juice (hey, he cared for his brother, ok? And that boy probably wouldn't go shopping unless he was starving. Even then, it would be unhealthy McDonalds anyway), bananas, a can of peanuts, a six-pack of Gatorade, and a premade store sandwich for his lunch. Paying and taking his bags, he headed off once more for his dorm.

Matthew looked around him at the green trees, the lovely little stonework, the little squirrels who would pick peanuts out of his hand, and realized that this college, while quite large and daunting, was beautiful. And in the middle of nowhere, there was no worry of family visitation. Yes, this university was extensive, letting both him and his brother go here, and yet, he found it cozy.

He ate his sandwich and mountain dew on a little bench under a willow tree, breaking open the can of peanuts for his little squirrel friends, who made him have overloads of cuteness at their little mouths and hands. Finally, he thought he should prepare for the second day of orientation, getting up to head back for his dorm to unpack, and map out where his different classes were that he would have to walk to the next day, meeting all his teachers.

He huffed up the steps, his bags in hand, with now a little less weight from the removal of the sandwich, (a very good turkey and provolone, thank you very much) and soda. The dorm was like any other, slightly dirty, built twenty years ago, somewhat dark, the sound of a washing machine coming from somewhere below (although they would never work when one actually went to use them…sadistic washing machines…). Matthew counted the steps it was taking him, trying to focus on the number than the task of actually climbing them. It wasn't making it any easier, and Matthew sorely wished this dorm had an elevator. But he'd live with it.

He finally was on his floor, and started down it, ignoring the other college students walking past him. And, as he was halfway down the hall, he noted strange metal doors…which suddenly slid open, and people stepped out with their boxes, like Matthew had been doing earlier, except using the stairs…if only he'd known... Stupid invisible elevator.

He spotted his room, and sped up a little until he realized there were two voices inside, and the door was almost all the way closed, only a crack letting light pour into the dim hallway. He heard Arthur's voice, aggravated and harsh, and then a low voice underneath it that made Matthew's skin crawl. Mattie stood outside the door, unsure whether or not to go in.

Maybe Arthur had wanted privacy, and this other man in the room might be his lover. Arthur was so gay, it hurt, and Matthew's GAYDAR was never wrong. (Matthew had thought it was faulty when he'd first gotten some inclination that Alfred was a little light in the loafers, considering his track record of "football star stud muffin" that their dad liked to play to the extreme. But after watching Al make out with a girl at the start of a party and go home with a guy at the end, he knew he'd been right all along). But Matthew's fingers were slowly losing circlation from the plastic handles, and he was so tired by this point.

And he could always say he didn't hear anyone, and had simply pushed the door open, right?

So, Matthew did just that, letting the bags hit the door as a kind of warning to put things away if they were out, because it wasn't going to be just the two of them anymore, and Mattie damn well wasn't leaving until he dumped these bags.

What he found on the other side of the door almost immediately want to change his mind.

Arthur was sprawled on his bed, a blonde man over him, his face leering down at the Brit, who was glaring and pushing the other away. But at the sound of the door squeaking open, Arthur looked away from the man making unwanted forward advances towards the noise, and Mattie dropped the bags on the ground, his face pale, his lips twitching. Arthur caught the look, and sputtering, tried to explain.

"This isn't what it looks like, M—"

"Mathieu?" The blonde man was looking at the man in the doorway before exploding. "Oh, Mathieu, _mon petit!"_ He jumped from the bed and tackled Matthew to the ground, causing the thinner blonde to wince as his back collided with the pack of Gatorade bottles. "Oh, Mathieu, I 'ave missed you so! Oh, Je t'aime!"

Matthew struggled to push the excited man off of him. "God, Francis, _What. Have. I. Told. You. About. Touching me!"_

"Wait, how do you two…" Arthur was sitting up on his messed up bed, his hair disheveled more than before, his expression one of confusion, (read: slight horror).

"Z'his, mon lapin, iz my _darling_ little cousin, Mathieu Williams! Oh, Auntie didn't tell me you were going to school 'ere!" Francis rubbed his face into Matthew's hair, causing Matthew to squirm uncomfortably, trapped in the Frenchman's arms. Arthur stared at the two on the floor, and realization dawned on him. The blonde, chin length hair, the accents (well, Francis' accent was more like its own language), the shape of the eyes, they were all eerily similar.

"Well, mom sure as hell didn't tell us you were going to school here. _If she had, I wouldn't be going to this school at the moment…"_

"Well…wait…we? Alfred iz 'ere as well?" Francis' face twisted into a scowl, distaste evident on his manicured face. "Ugh, what z'he downer. That imbecile here as vell."

Matthew finally was able to push the Frenchman away. "I'm sorry, but "with one, the other is never far behind, unfortunately". Now who does that sound like?" Matthew glared at Francis. Both internally were remembering the statement Francis had said years before, having made the comment when Alfred had finally come to Canada after the divorce, causing Matthew to get furious.

Francis originally had liked both twins equally; well, almost equally, having been the older, foreign cousin, far from his homeland, but not familiarity in Quebec. The two only saw him on Christmas and during summer vacations when they spent two months at their maternal grandparents' home (a twelve-acre country manor, a throwback from an era long gone, when their family had been a major part of the success of French Canada), and looked up to him in awe, his two years being the difference between being a contemporary and being a god to them. Alfred had always been adorably energetic, but Matthew had been special, and Francis would spend all his time with the quiet child, dealing with Alfred politely, affectionately, but nothing like Matthew.

But as Alfred had gotten older, and Alfred's father had pushed and molded the boy into something all together displeasing to Francis, Matthew had become more and more important as family. And when the boy had come to Canada after the divorce to escape the tyrannical father Francis had been overjoyed, but still cautious and hoping against hope that the obnoxious jock of a twin wouldn't follow. So when he had, Francis had let the comment slip.

How was he supposed to know that the reason Alfred was coming was that he was also gay (bisexual, fine, whatever), making him the third cousin to like men. (This causing their grandparents to put a little more pressure on the last remaining cousin, a girl who lived on an island in Africa, very far away, who was soon to be married, to carry on the bloodline). Francis had simply thought that Alfred had complained to his father and had gotten his way like he always had, not being the "gay one" in the family, unlike Matthew, who had always struggled, and Francis, who had been the first in the family to come out of the closet. But when he'd seen Alfred walk down the gangplank in the airport, and saw the glare a furious Matthew had sent him, he'd felt the guilt bubble up.

Still, the fact that Matthew didn't talk with him for an entire week, and was talking to him less and less as the months went by for no apparent reason, caused him to hate the annoying _American_ (he wasn't good enough to be compared with Matthew's Canadian-ism, and way too patriotic) even more.

Mattie could only remember the look on his brother's face, the hurt, the confusion, and the bruise that covered his eye. Alfred hadn't even wanted to come to Canada, had wanted to brave it out at home before he would admit that everything wasn't all right. He still had a vain hope that their parents would reconcile, that they could get back together, if he pretended, played his cards right. Going to Canada was giving up the fight. Alfred had actually become somewhat depressed about the whole thing, trying to come to terms with everything for months, after countless assurances from his mother and brother. It had been a bad time.

And Matthew had never fully forgiven Francis. And there were other things that had caused Matthew to strongly dislike his cousin, the snipe about Alfred being the final straw.

Arthur watched the whole silent eye conversation and thought processes going on, and just sat there confused. Would he ever understand these French-speaking peoples?

"Fine. I will try to be nice to Alfred." Francis' face once more became composed, and his happy expression returned. "But just look, my former roommate and amorant, and mon cousin, roommates! Now I can vizit z'he two of you at z'he same time! The two birds and single stone, yes?"

"Get. Out. You. Frog." Arthur's hostility returned tenfold at the mention of being the Frenchman's former lover, and he pointed towards the door. "I told you never to mention that ever again, that we never had anything to begin with."

A pout coming over the Frenchman's face, he looked to Mattie in hopes of being granted stay, but was met only with a stony glare, the same which he had been receiving from Arthur. So, he sniffed, flipped his hair absently with one hand, and left the room, head defiantly high. "Fine, but I shall be back."

Once he had disappeared, Matthew sat down on his bed, his head in his hands.

"Who else is here to ruin this year? Satan? Satan would be a better alternative to Francis any day."

All Arthur could do was simply nod in agreement.

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><p><strong>Here you go. Am I confusing at all? Please tell me! And, reviews inspire me. The more reviews...the faster the update...<strong>

**Fun fact: Before Prohibition, one man, on average, in America, would drink 88 bottles of whisky A YEAR.**


	3. Brits, Twits, and Germans

**Twin speak is _sideways... _and Some more people come into play. Oh, and the book on Voltaire I mention, well, let's just say, I love that book, and my copy is in the mail.**

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><p>Alfred sat back in his desk chair, listening to the professor go on and on about the Earth's orbit in detail, talking about how other planets went through the same cycle, and Alfred soon discovered that the man was an avid anti-Pluto supporter. He was convinced there were only eight planets, and that Pluto wasn't good enough to be even a dwarf planet in his eyes. "Barely equivalent to a moon!" Boy, class was going to be <em>so <em>fun this year. But as he watched the pudgy bald man go on and on, his mismatched toupee flopping up and down, he had to concede that even if the subject of the class was going to be boring, the teacher certainly wasn't.

Alfred took lazy notes, having already learned about the solar system in great detail as a child, reading every book he could get his hands on that had to deal with the cosmos. That was what he really wanted to study, but had decided on going as a science major, to broaden his field and make sure this truly what he wanted to do. His minor, well, he was going back and forth between American histories and Math.

He was a whiz at math, better than his teachers in high school, but he didn't really find it fun. Sure, those Mathletes had their competitions, but he'd never had any desire to do any math outside of class. But history, and American at that, well, there was his secret pleasure.

He'd read The Age of Voltaire in tenth grade, the seven hundred page tome being lugged everywhere with him for two months, and after that, books on the Civil War, the Revolution, or World War II. His brother once remarked that it made no sense for Alfred to hide his book on German Panzers behind a large Captain America comic book in school. And, if Mattie had listened to his brother's rants about fictional characters correctly, he got the sense that the Cap would be fine with him going out for a bit of higher education.

Now, as Alfred began to doodle the sacred Captain standing on the Earth in his diagram, he began to notice the other people in the room more than ever before.

Chicks. Not nearly as hot than in Liberal Arts, but pretty. Not the one-nighter type. He'd have to scope out that respective group soon. Same for the men, except these classmates around him were as nerdy as they came. Pocket protectors, Zelda notebooks, the Star Trek emblems everywhere. So not Get Laid City.

Now figuring out that his surrounding student body of about 20 classmates were all of the lower section of the food chain (not that he looked down on them at all, no he was one himself on the inside, still reading his comics, although just now online, he was disappointed at the men and women's lack of…sexiness, the presence of sweater vests and cardigans, the Oxford orthopedics really a turn off…) he then picked up the fact that that everyone else was surreptitiously was glancing at him.

Alfred was what people called "lucky". He'd inherited the best of the genes, making him both extremely intelligent and extremely good-looking. So, amongst the nerds (with whom he'd be buds with once he truly opened his mouth and uttered the words "Captain, that is quite illogical") he was an Adonis, sitting in a white button-up with blue cross stitching, the collar relaxed, the top a little unbuttoned, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, his hair tousled around his perfectly shaped, thin, yet strong-jawed face. His tan made him glow with health, himself thin, yet sporting a six-pack, his glasses sending off that little added "intelligent, sexy bastard" look. It was a gift and a curse.

Alfred was used to being judged on his appearance, having people impressed and ready to hire him at job interviews and internships before he even opened his mouth. There were the women at clubs who'd make sure to dance extra close to him as soon as he was scoped out. People came up to him looking for a friendship, having simply seen his face.

That was probably why he didn't really have any really close friends. He would be friendly with anyone who approached him wanting to hang out, and most of the people in high school, both in America and Canada, who'd invited him to parties or be a part of their club, only saw who he was on the outside, totally ignoring the fact that underneath his devilish good looks was a personality so different from it, the two were like night and day.

It had been hard growing up, because he had _tried_ to be the devilish stud, and had started putting up a mask around his classmates. His father probably was the root cause of it (his father was the root cause of much of what was wrong with him, but whatever), having encouraged the behavior. And seeing that his father was proud when he flirted just the right way with the daughters of his colleagues at dinner parties, he started using the fake personality whenever he was in any social situation that could possibly painful for him, like hanging out with the football team and cheerleading squad at the Friday night parties that went on to celebrate the game that would occur the next night.

He'd been ridiculed as a child for being a nerd, actually was bullied for standing up for others. He hadn't always been handsome, that had all been a later coincidence. But, yes, his exuberance and innocence always had ended up getting him black eyes. That had led, now that he thought about it, to his first mask. The "I'm always happy and obnoxious, even though my home life is a wreck and I just climbed out of a trash can some big kids threw me into." Devilish stud was the second. Both had to be breached to get to who Alfred truly was. And only Mattie and his mother were included in that spectrum. Gilbert? Well, he didn't believe the whole "Devilish" part, but he had yet to remove the other mask. Alfred made sure he never acted anything other than "awesome" and happy around the German-American, but he probably would open up to the albino. They were well on their way to being as close as "bros before hoes".

It was kind of sad, Alfred thought as the class came to a close, that he was considered the "nicest guy" in high school, yet the _Loneliest guy_ was much more fitting. Pushing his philosophical thoughts aside, he hoped that these would not become a habit in this class, or else, he may start skipping this class. It wasn't fun to keep remembering the fact that he was lonely and put up barriers to keep people out whenever he felt the least bit uncomfortable. After all, the people in this science class made him as comfortable as he could be in a classroom setting. These were his people, not those kids in High school. He could be his geeky self without any worry of reprove.

He chatted with another student on the way out, a girl, and the two realized they had the next class together, and set off in the direction of the building. They soon started discussing their majors and reasons for their college selection.

"…and part of the reason I came here was the fact that this college was a good school for both the sciences and the arts and literature. It is a good school for both my brother and I, and we both were accepted. Plus, it is at least five hours from our parents. A very good thing." Mattie had wanted to tell him something yesterday pertaining to that, but after a verbal argument with Gilbert, who was polishing the damn gun again, had stalked out without finishing his sentence. Maybe someone was going to come down soon for a visit. Or maybe his father had keeled over, and he and Mattie were both double-digit millionaires. After all, their mother had made sure that they had most of their inheritance set away in trust funds upon his death, so Trophy Bitch only got, like, seven mil', and not everything.

"Oh, by your appearance, I would have thought you came here for the football team. But considering the fact you're on your way to advanced physics with me, I shouldn't have assumed that." The girl blushed, embarrassed. Alfred laughed good-naturedly. God, it was a lovely thing to talk with someone so honest. He looked down at her, and realized she must have escaped his scope of the room when he'd done a quick look at dating material. She certainly was pretty, Lilli was it? But she looked like she was fourteen, her big green eyes only stirring feelings of protectiveness in a brotherly sort of manner in Alfred.

"I used to play, I didn't know they had a team. But they probably had try-outs." Alfred was a little disappointed. How could he have missed the fact that there was a football team at this school?

She looked thoughtful for a moment, clutching her books to her chest, her purple hair ribbon waving in the wind. "Well, my brother said that try-outs were late this year, and I heard it was because they had to get a new coach after the last one quit because they found him sleeping with one of the cheerlead—oh my, I'm sorry!" Yep, definitely younger sister type. She was adorable, though, what with her sweetness and innocence.

Once again, Alfred laughed, and patted her shoulder lightly. "Don't worry 'bout it. But could you ask your brother when these try-outs are? I'm interested, to say the least."

"You can ask me right after you get your filthy man-paws off Lilli." Alfred jumped a little and turned around, taking his hand off as instructed. He came face to face with a gun barrel, and he gulped.

"Bruder! No, you don't understand, he was just being friendly!" Alfred watched as Lilli yanked the pistol down and out of the man's hand, clicking the safety back on with a practiced ease._ She must have to do this often, _Alfred thought, _and now with more of the German? What is with these German families and carrying around illegal handguns? _

The man continued to glare at him, and that was when Alfred realized, the two, side by side, had the same exact hair cut, but beyond that and their blonde hair, they bore no resemblance to each other. But, from Lilli's fast paced rant about how Alfred wasn't a pedophile and wasn't part of the mob, he learned the man's name. _Vash_ was a strong, somewhat average height, man. He also was quick to get angry, and from where Alfred was standing, he could see more weapons sticking out of his jeans pocket, his jacket, his backpack. Lord, this man was as crazy as his sister was sweet.

"Well, um, nice meeting you Vash, I'm going to be late for class if I don't go. Bye!" Alfred started to scuttle away towards the safety of his physics class.

After a look from Lilli, Vash called after the blue-eyed blonde walking quickly away from the two of them, "Tuesday. 7am. Practice field."

Alfred stopped and turned back around. "Wha…? Oh, thanks. See you around, Li—"

"Bastard, don't leave her here!" Vash grabbed his sister by the wrist and dragged her over to Alfred. "It was only a fluke that I was able to see her walking across campus this morning, as my first class doesn't start until tomorrow, but since Lilli has vouched for your character, I expect you, Mr. Football star, to watch over her in the mornings! Never know when rapists will strike, or furry animals…but do something to her, and I'll gouge your eyes out. Got it bub?" Alfred nodded.

"Good. But I'll be watching."

And so, they walked on to physics.

"That went better than expected!" Lilli smiled as she sat down next to Alfred. "Usually he bashes people over the head before I can talk him down."

Alfred groaned when he learned that he was taking the exact same major as Lilli, and they shared two more classes. Great, more psycho brother. But she was sweet, and this couldn't be her fault, so, resigned to help protect her, he simply rested his head on his arms, and listened as his professor droned on.

* * *

><p>Matthew wasn't looking forward to his third class of the day. Entrance math. He had missed the cut off for taking this class by .1, to the shock of Alfred, who was a stupid hoser…being a stupid mathematical genius, and had gotten a perfect score on the exam. Not only that, he had two courses and their credits under his belt from high school, getting ahead and advanced when they came back from Quebec.<p>

As he walked in, he looked around at the unfamiliar faces around him, wondering how he was going to get through this class without falling asleep. Or, with falling asleep, and who he could copy off of. I mean, really? Who needs math to understand the great works of the Bard? Or to see life as Camus? Jane Austen and her bunch weren't experts in calculus, now were they?

He sat down, and looked at the person he'd sat next to, and jumped with a start.

"Arthur, why are you in entrance math? Didn't you have to take this in freshman year?"

Arthur jumped as well, dropping his book on the history behind Irish Literature, and looked at Matthew for a moment, as if remembering who was talking to him. He swallowed, and then sighed.

"I _did_ take this class last year. I'm just so bloody bad in Math, and my grades were so bad, that I had to drop out for remedial Math and try again this year. They apparently don't have tutors here for this, so I'm stuck on my own. And with freshman, no less."

Matthew nodded sympathetically, and turned forward as the class started, an idea starting to itch the back of his mind.

* * *

><p>They were eating Indian food Arthur had ordered back at the dorm to try and "get closer", and Matthew stewed over the day.<p>

"Arthur?"

"Yes?" Arthur looked up from his curry, tapping his black plastic fork on the plastic tub the food had come in.

"What if I knew someone who could tutor you in math? He's a real wiz at it, always has been. I'm sure when he isn't in class or playing video games he'd be glad to help you."

Arthur gave him a thoughtful look. "And who would this be?"

"My twin brother, Alfred. He's in a dorm up the hill."

"You have a twin? Why hasn't he come here before?" Matthew shrugged, and didn't remind the Brit that Alfred had been mentioned several times over the horrible conversation with Francis. Arthur studied Matthew's face for a moment. "You seem like a good ol' chap, and if your twin is anything like you, I'd be glad to have help. Could he meet me in the library after classes?"

"I bet he would." Matthew refrained from mentioning that Alfred only _looked_ like him, but they acted totally different.

Alfred arrived back at his dorm room from the dining hall to find Matthew outside the door, leaning on the wall. He raised an eyebrow, but didn't say a word, simply twisting the unlocked doorknob, knowing Gilbert to be in the room.

The two, Mattie and Gil, seemed to not be getting along. Just the other day, when Mattie had dropped off pop tarts and juice for him, Gilbert asked him what he did in his free time, and Mattie had said something about writing. Gilbert told him that pussies that wrote poetry were _so_ not his type. And Mattie had actually thrown one of Alfred's textbooks at the German's head. The gun Gilbert had been polishing had fallen to the floor as Gilbert had barely caught the book, and gotten scuffed.

Alfred still wondered how he'd ever escaped WW III, which had happened in the minutes after the incidents. But at least there was a hole the size of a bullet in which they could peek out at who was on the other side of the door. Duck tape had been taped over it, and around one of the legs of Gilbert's bed, holding the semi-broken piece of furniture together. Alfred was still looking for the leg to his Captain America action figure. And, yes, he'd checked the bushes that lay outside the dorm room window.

"Hey bro, what's up?' Alfred held the door open, and Matthew leaned against the doorframe, his eyes sending a glare over to a sleeping Gilbert, before his thin, pale face took on a look of devious intent. "Bro?"

Matthew's eyes snapped away from the German-American, and once again registered why he'd come. "_I was wondering if you could…would do me a favor."_

Alfred switched mentally over to the twin speak that the two had developed years ago, a mixture of English and French words. With bickering parents and a bitch of a nanny, they'd only had each other growing up. Alfred smiled slightly, realizing he had been missing his brother over the past few days. "_Sure, what is it?"_

"_My roommate, well, I found out he's god awful at Math. He showed me his notebook, and well…please help him?" _Mattie came over and sat next to Alfred, his hands clasped together. He knew that begging to Alfred activated the older twin's hero complex. Now just to play it right if he said no.

"_Help him? Do you mean tutor him, or just help him with this math homework? Mattie, I don't have time to focus on another person's studies…"_

"_Al, please, I…he's the first new friend I've made, and he really needs help! Isn't it your policy to help anyone in need?"_

He gave Alfred such a look, Alfred couldn't take it. _"Fine. God, Mattie. When do I start?"_

"_Tomorrow, the library after class."_

"_Fine."_

"Dude, do you two pussies ever speak American? I hear enough German at home, I don't wanna wake up everyday whatever the hell you guys are speaking. Last time I take a damn nap."

The twins looked over at Gilbert, who was groggily running a hand through his hair. Matthew, without a word, got up and left. Alfred sighed. "Really?"

"Dude, twins speak? I thought that shit was only in book or television."

"Nope, its real."

"So, what did the little puddifoot have to say?"

* * *

><p><strong>And there it is. Next time, Football, Favors, and Francis.<strong>

**Fun Fact: There was a man who's leg was amputated in the Civil War, and was preserved in a barrel of alcohol. The man survived along with the leg, which was donated to a museum, and the man would visit it on the anniversary of the day the two were parted every year.**


	4. Football, Favors, and Francis

**So, long time no see? Not going to make up excuses. Here it is. **

* * *

><p>Alfred lugged his gym bag down to the locker room Tuesday morning, prepared for it to be full of all sorts of guys. Instead, he had a corner all to himself. What kind of a football try-out was this? Did he come at the right time? It was 6:50 am, and there wasn't anyone there.<p>

He got dressed in work out clothes and started out for the practice field, having scoped it out the night before. He saw a small group down by the 50 yard line, and he hurried down the concrete steps. As he came upon the group, he noticed someone familiar on a bench, and he waved, before walking over.

"Hey Lilli, is this it?" He gestured to the seven or eight people on the field, two wearing helmets and crashing into each other for no apparent reason.

"Well, there is some others, but they're…well…" Lilli blushed in embarrassment.

"They're hung-over, the dummkopfs. It's a wonder Gilbert stumbled down here at all, and in his nightclothes no less." A man was sitting next to Lilli, brown haired with glasses and a mole, his clothes pristine and almost obsessively fixed into place. Hearing the Germanic accent, Alfred wondered silently just how prolific Germans were.

"Gilbert? Come to think of it, I didn't even check to see if he was still in bed when I left to come down here. I didn't know he was trying out. We're roommates, by the way. I'm Alfred." He reached out his hand, watching a look of distaste come across the effeminate man's face before he reached up and took it, before giving it a quick shake and pulling his hand once again away.

"Roderich. So, you're Gilbert's new roommate? Let's just hope you're not as annoying." And with that, the brown haired man turned away, taking out a wet napkin and wiping his hands, cleaning any germs Alfred had put on them. "Gilbert almost didn't try out due to my partner joining this year, one of the players in the helmets over there. They don't get on very well. But they're purposely ignoring each other right now."

Oh. Well, it didn't surprise Alfred that little Miss Prissy over here was gay.

"Roddy, I don't think Gil and Lizzy get on so bad. They're so nice to me all the time." Lilli smiled at Roderich for a moment before turning back to Alfred, who was confused.

"Lizzy? Like as in Elizabeth?"

"Elizabeta, yes. She and that foreign exchange girl from Belgium are the ones in the helmets, then there's Vash, Gil, Gil's brother Luddy, the Belgian girl's brother, Tonio, he joined 'cuze he lost a bet, um, the Romanian kid, and then there were others, but they're still asleep from…er…drinking too much… water." Lilli's cheeks were red, even though she was trying to ignore the impropriety of half the team missing. "And then grandpa Germania, he's coach now that Mr. Roma resigned after that run in with a cheerleader and a hotel room. I think the try-outs are starting. Good luck Al!"

"Well, nice talking to yah, thanks! I better get down there!" Co-ed team? And was everyone European? God, where was the soccer team, these guys seemed more apt for the fairy games than football.

Roderich watched as Alfred skipped down the stairs, his blonde hair flopping around. "Why is he trying out? I've never seen him around before, and Vash only glared at him once while you were talking with him. Does your bastard of a brother think I'm that capable of protecting you against strangers, or am I missing something here?"

"Oh, that's just Alfred. He's in a lot of my classes, and Vash has him walking with me between buildings. He's a sweetie…" she leaned in close to her old childhood peer, "and a cutie, but I think he's a little light in the loafers at times, if you catch my drift. Can't be sure, though, might go both ways. Like Gilbert, except less obvious."

Roderich, who was generally surprised by the statement and general gossipi-ness of the girl next to him, looked like a bird with ruffled feathers for a moment. "So, wait, Gilbert did sleep with that guy! I thought Lizzy was pulling my leg with that one, after all, she did date him for a month. And Alfred seemed very straight to me, blue eyed devil he seems to be."

"It's kinda like how everyone calls you a "faggot" when you tell them your _partner_ plays on the school football team. Not nice at all, considering what a stir it was when the team went co-ed. But yeah, I wouldn't be surprised if he and Gil hit it off. I heard Gil talking to Ludwig about playing 'Call of Shooting' or something with him all night."

Roderich just shook his head, disbelieving. "Why can't anyone believe I'm just metro sexual?"

Practice was tough, Coach Germania pushing the lot of them harder than they'd ever been pushed before, whether on high school teams or under Coach Roma, who'd always been too busy flirting with the couple of cheerleaders the team had. The team had always really been run by Ludwig, but this year, Ludwig's grandpa reined supreme.

Alfred found himself in the receiving position, Ludwig the quarterback, and he felt the game coming back to him. He rushed out at the word 'hut!' and sped forward as fast as he could go, Gilbert chasing after him in his pajamas, laughing hysterically at the whole situation. Alfred had leaned out and caught the old pigskin with one hand, before bringing it into his chest. He continued his run, crossing the 'touch down' line, and slowing down, putting his hands on his knees, heavily panting, a smile on his face. Gilbert, however, didn't stop.

He ran ten more feet and purposely tackled Alfred, sending them both crashing to the ground, Alfred giving off a yelp of surprise.

"Gotcha!" He laughed that throaty 'kesese' before being yanked off Alfred by his brother and grandfather.

"Are you all right, Jones?" The coach reached out a hand for him while Ludwig reprimanded an unimpressed Gilbert. Alfred shook his head and got up without help.

"I'm fine, just a little winded. Gilbert sure can tackle." He chuckled softly.

"So, you are his roommate? Will you make sure he doesn't have to transfer again? Ludwig is his slightly younger brother, they used to be in the same year until Gilbert had to transfer due to his .3 average last year at a college out west." Alfred responded that he'd try, somewhat confused why he was being asked this during the middle of a football practice, but chalked it up to the fact the man was very straight forward. As the coach turned away, throwing his white blonde man-braids behind him, Alfred thought he heard the man mumble "insolent brat…" and glare at Gilbert out of the corner of his eye.

He was soon patted on the back by the boy named Tony or something, a Spanish kid who kept telling everyone that if it weren't for that bet, he'd reinstate the soccer team, which apparently had been disbanded due to lack of interest years before. What the bet had been…well, the kid wouldn't tell. "Good job, Jones! Maybe we'll actually make it through the first game of the play-offs this year!" The Spanish kid smiled, rather bubbly and somewhat brain dead. Alfred wondered what was gong on in the kid's head when he stood there, staring up at the sky, a smile on his face, whispering "tomate~!" over and over.

He didn't think about it for long, though, running after the next ball while Tony (Tonio? Was that it?) got tackled during his oblivious daydream, eliciting a yell from the coach.

* * *

><p>During lunch hour later on, Alfred went to go sit at an empty table, but turned at the sound of Gilbert's voice calling him to come sit with them.<p>

There were many people at the table, Lilli, Roderich and Lizzy (who tackled hard!), Ludwig, Vash, Gilbert, Antonio, a brown haired Italian and an Asian boy. It was nice how fast they warmed up to him, and the Italian especially was amusing.

He clung to Ludwig's arm the entire meal, and it was very clear that Ludwig doted on the boy, Feliciano, or Feli for short. They were roommates, and had been last year as well. Feli talked Ludwig's ear off, and everyone else was part of the audience. Ludwig seemed to try and fend off much of the Italian's affections, but gave in more and more as the hour went on.

"Hey, um, Kiku was it? Yeah, are they dating or something?" The Japanese exchange student was very nice to speak with, and was all knowing about anime, already promising to let him borrow some dvds and books next chance he could stop by his dorm near the two 'lovebirds' across the way in sophomore dorms.

Kiku blushed, but answered all the same. "No, but Feli has told me he is in love with him, and Gilbert-san has confirmed it likewise with Ludwig. They just skirt around each other."

"Ah, clueless love birds."

"And the limo is going to pick me up at five tonight so I can go see that new art show. You'll come with me, right Luddy?" Feli looked up at the severe German who sighed, and nodded, earning him an enthusiastic hug and Feli a deep blush.

"Whoa, limo? Limousine? So you have rich parents too?" Alfred jerked his head up from the conversation he'd been having with Kiku.

"No, my brother owns the limo. He works at a flower shop downtown." Alfred stared at Feli confused for a moment, and Tonio and Ludwig on either side of him stiffened in their seats.

"He can afford a limo working at a flower shop…?"

"No no no, that's just a cover, he really is part of the Mafi—" His mouth was quickly covered with two sets of hands, one from Ludwig and the other from Tony.

"No, Jones, Feli only meant Lovino owns a flower shop, but also jointly a limo-renting service, to handle all the dances and such that happen here." Tony gave him a smile, and there was a hard expression in his eyes, daring Alfred to say anything further on the subject. Alfred was totally oblivious to the change in the subject, leaning back with a chuckle.

"Dude, it's no prob! For a moment this all started to sound like my cousin's friends at his college, wherever the hell he is. He was so bored this summer during the week we stayed at the old Williams homestead 'cuze his friends wouldn't text him back," Alfred took a sip from his soda, leaning back from the table while gripping it with one hand to keep his balance "complained about this guy who called his boyfriend a tomato, and this one dude who's brother was some mob boss and this other guy who secretly had a picture of a freakin' bird under his pillow so he could 'be with him always', and secretly liked cute things…"

Alfred went down with a crash as Gilbert tackled him for the second time that day. Hands were around his neck, and his head was being banged over and over again into the floor. He gasped for air as Gilbert yelled down at him "WHO TOLD YOU THIS? HAVE YOU BEEN GOING THROUGH MY STUFF? DID YOU TOUCH MY PICTURE OF GILBIRD…?"

"Hon, hon, hon, sorry I'm late, I was what you call seducing z'he assistant teacher in mon…Gilbert! What are you doing? Let go of z'he poor…Alfred!"

Both men on the floor looked up, as did the rest of the table, to the spot where a certain Frenchman had dropped his tray of salads.

Gilbert stopped shaking Alfred, who was gasping for breath, before looking between Alfred and Francis. "Am I missing something?"

Alfred eventually began to turn from a purplish red tint back to his tan, and caught sight of the blonde everyone was staring at. "Francy-pants! What are you doing here? I thought you were off in college down south!"

Francis snorted, rolling his eyes. "Alfred, I said I was going to z'he 'southern' college meaning not in Canada. I didn't mean z'he deep south of America, mon petit idiot. Gilbert, z'his idiot you were strangling iz my cousin, Alfred." He sat down, flipping his hair disinterestedly.

"You're his fucking cousin? You _told__him__about__my__Gilbird__photos!__"_ The albino now was ready to tackle anew, his precious handgun in the side inside pocket of his jacket (although technically that was very illegal) shining for the table to see.

"_And __Lovino!__"_ Tony glared at Francis with such anger and emotion, Alfred mentally revising the whole 'airhead' idea. "How could you just blatantly go off and tell him about Lovino being part of…the _family_! And that I called him a tomato, I told you not to tell anyone about that!" The Spaniard huffed, his face still angry, but somewhat like a small child's.

Francis glared at Alfred, making a mental note to get back at his cousin for being such an idiotic blabbermouth later, but slowly began to back away as Gilbert and Tony began to stalk angrily toward him. Kiku leaned out to give a hand to Alfred, who took it, and allowed himself to pulled up.

"Just another _normal_ day in a group of idiots," Roderich said, and as he cleaned his hands of his lunch, he stood up, nodded to Alfred and walked away with a huff, depositing his tray.

Lizzy sighed, whispering "melodramatic ass" before getting up and following. "Nice meeting you Alfred!"

What had he gotten himself into?

* * *

><p>Arthur huffed in his seat in the back corner of the library, waiting for his tutor who should have been sitting across from him ten minutes ago. He finally gave in to his impatience, and pulled out his cell phone. It was small and old, yet looked brand-new with how little he used it. He dialed the newest contact and waited as the phone rang.<p>

"H-hello? Arthur?"

"He's not here."

There was an exhausted sigh which made Arthur feel bad for bothering his roommate. "Give him ten more minutes, he's late a lot. Probably caught sight of mirror."

"What?"

"If he isn't there in twenty minutes, he's forgotten. Just hold in there."

Arthur groaned, and Matthew apologized before hanging up. And so, Arthur stared for a moment down at his course work, not able to make sense of it at all, before looking up. There, he watched as a young man stepped into the library, chatting up some girl, who giggled and handed him a slip of paper that obviously held a phone number. The man smiled, and took it, before running hand through his blonde hair. He slipped the paper into his back pocket, before looking around, his glasses reflecting the light from the library overhead fixtures. Then he caught sigh of Arthur, and his grin expanded.

_Oh __god__…__no__…__no, __this __could __not __be __who __Matthew __had __said __I__'__d __be __meeting! __This __guy__…_ Arthur took a good look at the man who was sitting down across from him. Built, tall, tanned, handsome. Matthew was…thin, lanky, pale, pleasant looking. They both looked so different…yet eerily similar, for if he looked past body shape, he could see the same facial shape, identical nose, shape of the eyes, hair.

"Hiyah! Name's Alfred, are you Arthur?" There was a hand under his nose, and Arthur glared at him, resisting the urge to bite the hand.

"You're fifteen minutes late."

Alfred snorted. "You sure are friendly. Are you British? I think I heard a bit of an accent!"

"You're late."

"Yeah, dude, I had to pick up my cousin Francis from the medical ward after my roommate and his friend beat him up. He was kinda annoying, I don't think he really likes me sometimes…he tried to fight me the whole way half hyped up on pain meds. Just because I was the one who got Gilbert and Tony to beat him up…"

_Did __he __ever __shut __up? _"Wait, Francis Bonnfey? Gilbert, Antonio? Those three were friends ever since the middle of last year after Gilbert transferred in. They are a bunch of perverts!"

"Gilbert's my roommate, so, yeah, kinda got to agree. He has so much porn under his bed…"

Arthur finally realized why they were here. He cleared his throat, stopping Alfred in his tracks. "Math. Let's see if you're as stupid as you sound."

"Wow, you know, you are not the cool guy Mattie made you out to be. Anyway, do you see that?"

"Yeah?" Arthur looked down at the row of text Alfred was pointing at, trying to make sense out of it, but was met with virtual gibberish.

"That is a logarithm, do you know how they work?"

Arthur looked up at Alfred's smile, and instantly felt something that felt like severe irritation. "No. That's why I'm here, you git!"

Alfred pouted, then huffed. "Fine, I'll explain it to you."

The switch was subtle, but soon Arthur realized Alfred was spewing a lecture about the figure, and began writing things down next to him, showing him all the possibilities that one could use it.

45 minutes later, Arthur was exhausted as Alfred smiled, then got up. "Hope that helped! Same time tomorrow?"

"Fine."

As Arthur finished the rest of it after Alfred left, he realized that everything clicked in a way it hadn't before. And also, the American 'git' was actually highly intelligent. When Mattie asked him later how it went, he was surprised to hear himself answer "good, actually".

When Alfred got back to his dorm, he found Gilbert reading through a large stack of papers held together with a clip.

"What's that?"

Gilbert didn't even look up. "The story manuscript I found under your bed while looking to see if you had any good porn. This is really good! Did you write this? Kinda sappy, but really good!"

Alfred paused, then it clicked as he remembered.

"No, actually, Mattie wrote that for me. I came up with a very basic prompt, he wrote the rest for my birthday two months ago."

"Does he have anything else like this?" Gil's eyes widened as he read a certain part, so entranced by the story, he didn't hide his interest, even if Matthew was involved.

"Yeah, I have one or two more here, he has the rest. He got one published after he won a contest. That's why he's majoring in lit."

"I think I may have misjudged him."

* * *

><p><strong>There you have it. All the vital characters have been introduced (i think?).<strong>

**Fun Fact: the divider in a lawn between the lawn plants and the wilderness behind it (in the case of estates) is called a 'ha-ha'**


	5. Gilbert?

**Sorry for the wait, but here it is!**

* * *

><p>"<em>So, Mattie, can I have those manuscripts from back in high school for a couple of days?"<em>

"_Why? Alfred, they're all the way under my bed in a box behind all my other stuff. I don't want to dig it out right now. I have a paper due two days from now, and I'd like to start working on it." _Matthew didn't even look up from his laptop as Alfred sat next to him on the bed, looking over his shoulder. Arthur looked over from where he was reading on his bed, raising a large eyebrow at the strange French-English language they were speaking in quick, hushed tones, but said nothing, turning back to his story.

Alfred had tried to hedge for a couple of days at hints to try and get his hands on those manuscripts. Gilbert had finished the one from the other day, but as soon as Alfred was about to ask Mattie for others, the albino had stopped him, saying that if his twin knew it was _Gilbert_ who wanted to read them, he'd probably laugh after giving Alfred a hearty 'No way! That hoser can go fuck himself!" or say that Gilbert just wanted to burn them or something. And apparently, according to Gilbert, it would hurt his 'man-pride' to admit to Matthew that he liked his writing.

Alfred didn't like this issue his roommate and his brother had with each other, so he made Gilbert promise that they would do some sort of bonding activity in the near future, possibly paintball, which Alfred had had a craving to play, if he didn't tell Mattie the reason behind the manuscripts.

This was easier said than done, Matthew being very uncooperative about the whole thing.

"_Just please, Mattie!"_

"_No. Why?"_

"_Please?"_

"_Tell me first why you want them."_

"_I'll open the boxes myself!"_

"_Go in there, and I'll castrate you. Why, are you trying to secretly get them published under your own name? Alfred, your writing sucks, and plagiarism is really un-heroic."_ At even the notion that Alfred wasn't heroic, his fists clenched, and he saw red.

"GILBERT WANTS TO READ THEM! FINE, I SAID IT! NOW TAKE. IT. BACK!"

Matthew just stared at him for a moment, and Arthur peaked over his book once more, a look of slight fear, covered with irritation at the blonde football star seething in the middle of the small dorm room.

"Thank you, Alfred, that was what I wanted to know. There is one in the bedside table, and the first box on the right under the bed has the rest, don't worry, I have them on a flash drive…" Then it clicked. "Gilbert? Why does he want my 'pussy' work?" There was a hint (read: a lot more than a hint) of irritation and annoyance directed behind the sentence, and Alfred realized this was turning out exactly how Gilbert had predicted, Mattie slipping back into standard English.

"I'll tell you once you take it back."

"Fine, I never believed that you would even think about doing something un-heroic, I only said what I said to get a rise out of you and to get answers. You're my twin, I know how to get answers out of you. Now, for the answer in question, no pun intended." Matthew rolled his eyes and Alfred visibly relaxed.

"Yeah, 'cuze I'm the hero, and I don't plagiarize. Anyway, Gilbert saw one of your books in a box while looking for porn, and he really liked it, so he wanted me to get others from you, but without telling you…please don't tell him! I was gonna get him to go paintballing with me and you and stuff…" It was like his hero-ness had never been threatened.

"He can read?" Matthew perked up slightly at the mention of paintball (even with Gilbert…actually especially with him if he got to go all sniper on his ass) but couldn't let the chance for sarcasm pass.

Arthur looked at the two brothers like they'd just sprouted three heads each and told Arthur they were here to steal the earth's supply of jelly and left turning signals. "Am I missing anything?"

"No, but Artie, don't forget our tutoring session today. How was the math exam?"

Arthur was taken aback by the sudden change of conversation, Alfred picking up a box filled with papers and booklets, but turned to face him in a second, and Mattie immediately seemed to tune them both out. It was like this big conversation reversal. "U-um…" Alfred focused on him intently with his brilliant blue eyes that Arthur found made him pause. "I actually did very…very well. Thank you. I wasn't expecting for this tutoring to go so well, it was a nice surprise."

Alfred laughed, and Arthur found it remarkably genuine, like Alfred actually liked talking with him. _Probably just likes praise, the pain in the arse!_ "Why was it a surprise?" the American asked. "Is it because you thought I was an idiot? I distinctly remember you calling me that on multiple occasions over the last couple sessions."

"No, its that I've tried other tutors, and none have worked as well…whatever." No, Arthur wasn't going to openly admit Alfred was the (ironically) the best tutor he ever had and the most annoying and irritating.

Alfred smiled even wider then saluted him. "Glad to be of service!" Then he and the box walked out.

* * *

><p>Francis sat at his workbench next to one of his best friends, although neither of them would admit it.<p>

Said not-friend best friend was sewing the finishing touches into their Halloween costume for two months from now. They really wanted to win the competition, so Francis was lending a hand before the class started.

"Like, thanks totally for coming to help me! I asked Liet and he was all 'Barf me out and gag me with a spoon!' so I really, like, appreciate this!" Liet was some bastardization of Lithuania, which was where _Toris_ was from, Toris being the boyfriend of the effeminate man next to Francis.

"It iz no problem, Feliks, after all, you made z'hat lovely wardrobe for me for my birtzday. I simply love z'he color z'cheme! Plus, mon cousin has shown Arthur all of my lock breaking trickz, so I have been so bored." Francis and Feliks both were in fashion and design, although Francis was going for more make-up and photo-shoots, while Feliks had offers to design a line of outfits as soon as he graduated. Feliks…well, most thought he was a girl due to woman's clothes he wore, but Francis didn't mind. As long as no one called them friends.

Feliks' face screwed up in thought, and as he tapped his chin thoughtfully, Francis saw his nails were painted hot pink. "Well, you could, like, figure out something to do other than sneak up on ol' Eyebrows. Maybe something like…no that would totally be like, to much work, no…you could break a nail doing that…oh you could totally…wait, that isn't good for the skin…"

Francis saw that the blond next to him was actually thinking, and stopped him before he got too far. "Slow down! What you are z'hinking sounds painful! I just need z'omething to keep me occupied and beautiful."

"Well, what are, like, your interests? Like, don't give that look, lets just work it out loud for, like, a moment. What would Oprah do for fun?"

Francis sighed, and leaned onto the workbench, a hand in his hair holding up his head. "Probably go and do z'omething with her billionz of dollarz. She doesn't have time to be bored, she's solving all z'he world's problemz and iz beautiful whilst doing it!"

"Like, what made it fun to bother Arthur?"

"His expression. Z'he indignation. Z'he large books combined with bad aim. Z'he chance to get 'im in bed with me or anyone else."

"Well, like, be a match maker for him! You should make him get a boyfriend, 'cuze honey, no offense, but after that first and last time you went out, you lasted a week with him because he caught you totally snogging some girl. You can, like, tease him and bother him, and not have to be faithful while doing it. Best of like, both worlds."

"Z'hat's a great idea my friend!" Francis jumped up, now excited to go and do exactly what Feliks had suggested.

"And I'm not, like, your friend! I hate your guts Francis, get out of my sight!" Feliks glared at him, but both knew it was just a stupid game they played, after all, every time they fought about something, it was about as real as a reality show. They were divas for drama, and when they went at it, everyone hit the desks except Feliks' loyal boyfriend, who usually was dragged into it unwillingly.

"I wouldn't be caught dead next to you." The comeback.

"See you, like, at lunch, you barfbag."

"See you."

* * *

><p>Feliciano was eating pasta and talking a mile a minute. "And he helped me with my luggage because brother was busy carrying out a hi-"<p>

"Lovino Vargas vas busy with his floral shop, so I helped him vith his luggage und his other things."

"Ve, and I thanked you, I was so happy! I hugged his arm, and told him I loved him for bringing up my stuff, and he yelled at me." Feli dropped his utensils and grasped onto Ludwig's arm, causing the German to blush. "Don't you remember? You said that I shouldn't tell people I love them so willy-nilly because when I truly meant it, it would be worthless. And although you were really scary, you were right. I love you for that."

"VHAT WERE WE JUST TALKING ABOUT? No, don't get upset. Let's go get some pasta, ja, ja, I'm coming."

Alfred had been eating dinner at the Foreign kids table, as he dubbed it, having just watched Feli and Gilbert's brother get up after a retelling of how they first met, as the topic of discussion had been first impressions with roommates, everyone laughing at Alfred's story. Feli and Ludwig, though, their story was one of obvious affection, though neither would see it that way.

Alfred decided he probably should head back to the dorm, then go spend some time with Mattie, when Gilbert leaned over and whispered into his ear to stay at the dorm room.

* * *

><p>"So, wait, you're not staying in tonight? I thought we were going to play some video games, you told me to come back here right after dinner."<p>

"I did so you'd have time to get dressed for the party."

Alfred turned and looked at Gilbert, and noticed his attire. "Leather pan—"

"Just get dressed. It's a Vargas party, and I promised Feli you would come."

"He really wanted me to come? He's such a nice guy, if a little airy and out there sometimes…wait, we ate with him today and he said nothing about a party. What, did this get arranged after I left? Let me guess, Feli became Ludwig's boyfriend, although they already practically are, and- "

"No, he was going to mention it, but wanted me to do it incase he didn't remember. And he's still technically not Ludwig's boyfriend, aka, they like each other, but aren't fucking. My brother, he doesn't fuck, he doesn't even have sex. He makes love, or he will when he finally tells Feli what we all know. But he'll be eighty three before that happens. Anyway, everyone from the table will be there along with half the campus. These parties are a really big deal."

They got dressed, and Alfred smiled. This was his first night on the town since high school. He was ready for the time of his life.

The party was held at the fraternity at the bottom of the hill near the edge of campus. Noise emanated from the house, and could be heard for half a mile. This was a big party.

Alfred leaned over to whisper in Gilbert's ear as they headed down the hill behind a group of cheerleaders. "How often does he hold these things?"

"Whenever his brother, who's part of the…family, gives him the go ahead. Lovino can't say no to his little fratello and Antonio at the same time, so these happen often."

"And can one get laid?"

"Ooooh yes, one goes to have fun and get laid, my friend. I have two condoms in my pocket, want one?"

"Umm…maybe, if its still in the package…why two?"

Gilbert laughed at Alfred's hesitancy. "So if one breaks, stupid. I wanna get some tonight!" He pressed a wrapped package into Alfred's hand.

"Err, thanks."

"And another thing, we watch each other's backs, got it? One of us gets too drunk, is about to do something stupid…we either do it together 'cuze we're pissed or we watch out, maybe record it for youtube."

"Yeah, no prob, bro. Who gets the dorm room if we both get lucky?"

Gilbert laughed again. "There isn't much chance we'll get back to the dormitory. The drinking games go all night, my friend." And the albino slung an arm around his shoulder as they got to the door. "Here we are, freshie!"

* * *

><p>After a while, he couldn't remember what day it was. He didn't know who he was drinking against any more, or if the game was still going. He just kept throwing back whatever was put in front of him. It had been a long time since he'd been this blown.<p>

Right now, he was watching a movie with Tony and L—l—lo…Tomato guy. He didn't know what the movie was about, but it was really colorful and he was laughing at every thing they said.

"'Nd h'said h'd be r'gh bah…ha ahaha." He couldn't even remember what he was trying to say.

Antonio laughed and pulled the guy on his lap closer. "Whoa, Al…you are smashed~ hohofusoso Lovi, wanna come upstairs and…" he whispered the rest into the guy's ear, and then he really looked like a tomato. Alfred laughed again.

"YOU BASTARD! YOU PEDIFILE! FUCKING TOUCH ME AGAIN AND I'LL…"

"Lovi, come with me…" Alfred yelped as Tony's face changed into that of a person who should truly be feared.

Needless to say, the guy who looked like a tomato allowed himself to be lifted from the couch and dragged up the stairs to the bedrooms, where weird noises were drifting down. Alfred went to get out of the couch, and tumbled to the floor, eventually pulling himself up by the couch arm, his hands gripping it for dear life. Once on his feet, he had to support himself by continuing his grip on the couch.

Now he felt like he was going to puke. He looked around for the nearest bathroom, and once he'd located it, he stumbled forward for it. As he was praying to the porcelain goddess (read: puking his brains out) he vaguely thought about the fact that he hadn't seen Gilbert for about an hour…maybe longer, he couldn't really think straight.

He slumped against the wall of the bathroom for a minute, the world around him blurry. His glasses were in his pocket, he must have tucked them in there, but he couldn't remember doing that but he didn't move to put them back on. As he began to get some stability in his limbs again, he pushed himself up. Time to get laid. He'd gotten laid drunker, and everybody wanted a pretty boy. At this point, he didn't care man or woman, bottom or top, his pride gone with his sobriety. Bitches, he was Alfred Jones.

Mattie had always patronized Alfred when he was drunk, saying he got overly confident and that he got a libido like a rabbit, and was shameless about it. Alfred sort of drunkenly remembered it with a smile. He stumbled out of the bathroom, his eyes scanning the room, making out moving shapes. There was a group of women (hopefully, they had the right curves and lumps in between their arms, so…) over in the corner with no male supervision. Could be lesbian, but that was really unlikely and they were hot. Better to get smacked than give up that kind of chance.

He should stick to women because he had no idea who was gay here, but there was a spicy group of guys over on the dance floor. Or there were if he could make it over there and not throw up, then gather enough sense to dance without falling over like an imbecile. He had to impress and charm, no one wanted to do some drunk…never mind.

"Hey thar, bu'dy boy." He turned his head and spotted someone leaning against the wall. They must have been staring at him the entire time. They strolled over and poked him in the chest, swaying slightly, also being intoxicated. "Wanna hav'-a good time?"

He just smiled stupidly, and although he couldn't make out the person's face he nodded, and they started to make out against the wall.

* * *

><p>The sun poured in through the curtains, and Alfred groaned, his head pounding. He threw out his arm to try and shield his eyes, but unbalanced himself from his precarious position on the edge of the bed, sending him to the ground.<p>

He landed on a comforter that was already half off the bed, and he put a hand over his eyes, allowing them to adjust, even though his head pounded every second. He was in the dormitory. In his room, with the door locked, and no vomit on the floor. He stood up, then realized something important. His bed was on the other side of the room. He hadn't been sleeping in his own bed.

"Whoa, my ass fucking kills…ow! My head fucking kills! Ow, My eyes fucking kill now that I've…Alfred, why are you standing naked in the middle of the dorm staring at me like I'm the devi—" Gilbert trailed off, the two of them looking at each other for a long time.

"Gil…did we…"

"Yeah, we fucked this whole roommate thing up. Literally."

* * *

><p><strong>So, any comments, concerns, questions?<strong>

**So, I got the acrobat sounding blog thing called a tumblrrrrrrr, and I post updates and crap on it, like how far I'm into a chapter, when the next one will be out, among my other crap. I talk a lot about other stuff too, but just in case you wanted little updates (also pitches for new fanfic ideas). htt p: / / mistamie. tumblr. com / (spaces remove, ja?)**

**Fun Fact: Some Pennsylvania settlers sided with England during the American revolution (technically the 2nd English Civil War) in hopes they would help expel emigrates from Connecticut in the Wyoming Valley. Taking sides in much of the Ame. Rev. was more based on rivalries and Religious beliefs than on personal.**


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